


mama we all go to hell

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Christians DNI, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, GEORGE HAS HETEROCHROMIA!!, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Pining GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sad GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), but he turns 18 so, for like a second tho, religious trauma, sorry - Freeform, they dont actually hate each other, this is not for you!, yippie kay yay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: clay wants to fix george but the more he delves in the more broken he discovers he is
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22
Collections: Anonymous





	mama we all go to hell

George did not like Clay and the feeling was definitely mutual. 

The blond boy was so messy, he put no effort into anything he did and still got praised for how ‘amazing’ and ‘smart’ he was. George was a bit fed up. 

His distaste got even stronger when he started going to his church. He would skip services, he wouldn’t participate in group, he would mutter rude things during sermons, he was a sinner and he still managed to know more then George, who had been practicing and memorizing since he was old enough to read. 

The more George got to know Clay the more he disliked him, especially since they started getting paired together for almost all projects. 

He hated doing work with him. He would curse, make inappropriate jokes, and smoke. 

He could overlook the other things (with some trouble but he still could) but the stench of nicotine and tobacco that clung to his clothes was terrible. 

It mixed terribly with the light smell of his cologne.

It mixed terribly with his minty breath and big, strong, soft hands. 

With his slightly curly blond hair, that would always be parted to the side. 

With his light muted green eyes that looked like they could tear you apart and put you back together in a second. 

With the bulky metal rings he wore, and the small silver cross necklace that you could get a slight look at if he wore the right shirt. 

With- What was the point of this? 

Right, George hated Clay. 

Clay wouldn’t say that he hated the smaller boy, it was simply a very strong dislike. 

He was just boring, a rule follower, and awfully pretty. 

How could someone with such pretty eyes and soft skin manage to tell him off without saying a single curse word, it was infuriating.

He hated how eager he was to please, even if there was clear discomfort on his face he would nod yes quickly and do it with no questions. 

He hated how he submitted so easily, he hated how he preached the bible as if he didn’t know it was bullshit, he hated how George looked like an angel but treated everyone like sin. 

He needed to be knocked down a few pegs, Clay wanted to be the one to do it. 

He wanted George to realize that ‘sin’ was a construct. He wanted him to realize that everyone sins and that if you were going to follow the bible to do it completely. 

He wanted him to acknowledge that sitting in that steeple and listening to a man who trusts everything he hears wasn’t healthy and was cultish. 

He wanted him to learn, George didn’t want to learn. 

That frustrated him, he couldn’t hate George for it though he’d been brainwashed. 

So he made a mental checklist of things he wanted to teach and have George do, ranging from cursing to crossdressing. 

He wanted to wreck George’s perfect reputation and today was the day he was going to start.

-

“George.”

George’s eyes snapped towards the sound of his name, his head staying up front looking at his father. 

“George.”

He continues ignoring the boy, his eyes moving back up to the front of the altar. 

“George.” Clay repeats louder. 

George closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before turning his head towards the taller male. 

“Yes?” His voice is even and calm. 

“Meet me by the bathrooms after this service.” He whispers before turning his ‘attention’ to the front once more. 

George holds in a scoff, nodding slightly before listening in again. 

The service is over a few minutes after, Clay spent the entire time after their ‘conversation’ watching George write down certain passages with his loopy neat handwriting. 

George stands up, dusting off his light blue button up. He packs away his full-sized bible and notebook into his black backpack and starts walking towards the youth group room. 

Clay shakes his head, he must’ve forgotten. 

He jogs over to where George is speed walking. 

“Georgie!” He lays a hand on his shoulders, watching as George shivers a bit. 

“Yes Clay?” 

“D’ya forget about our meetup?” He smiles down at him. 

George’s eyes flit to the side. 

“No,” He thinks his words out carefully, “I was just going to youth group to see Adam before I headed that way.”

“Alright,” He doesn’t believe him. “Whatever you say.”

George continues walking to the large room that is off to the left of the normal nave. Looking for a tall man with shortly cropped brown hair. 

“Adam!” He exclaims happily, a 180 from how he acted with Clay.

He stops wiping down a table and looks up at George. A smile dances onto his face. 

“George!” He replies with just as much fervor. 

Clay feels like he’s intruding, and in a way he is.

“Clayton,” He greets, not as excited but still kind.

“Hello,” He smiles at him “Just waiting for Georgie here so we can have a chat.”

Adam smiles and nods, turning back to George. 

“Do you still wanna talk?”

George pauses, “Not with him here, sorry.”

“That’s fine hun! Talk tomorrow?”

“That’s good,” He smiles politely. 

“See you then, have a good chat boys.” He smiles, it’s tight-lipped and insincere but a smile nonetheless. 

Confusion is evident in Clay's expression but he chooses not to prod, if they wanted to keep it a secret it was meant to be a secret. 

“So, George.” Clay starts. 

“Yes?”

“Follow me please,” He states, surprisingly formal.

“Alright.” George follows obediently, not asking any questions though the ‘plan’ was suspicious. 

Clay leads him outside to the back. 

He pulls out a small shiny box. 

He pulls out a thin white stick, sticking it in his mouth he mumbles out, “Want one?”

George cringes, his face scrunching up in a way that would be endearing if he wasn’t almost 18. 

“No thank you.” 

Clay shrugs, pulling out a lighter and lighting his. 

He takes a deep inhale and blows out a thick cloud of white and grey smoke. 

“So you’re gonna go home with me after this, right?” Clay starts explaining. 

George’s eyes widen but he doesn’t protest.

“And we’re gonna get to know each other.” He takes a quick puff from his cigarette. 

George’s eyes are attached to the fluid movement of the smoke, almost as if he were to look away it would disappear. 

“Alright?” Clay says a bit loudly. 

“What?” George’s head snaps up.

“You’re gonna come over to my house and we’re going to get to know each other.”

George’s face contorts, he doesn’t really want to. 

“Okay…” 

“Good!” Clay claps, George flinches. 

He doesn’t want to go to his house, if he goes to his house he’s going to be forced to talk to him and if he’s forced to talk to him he’s gonna let something slip and if he lets something slip Clay will get upset and if he’s upset he-

“George!” 

He looks up. 

“You were spacing off there for a second, you good?”

“Never better.” Lying is a sin Georgie. 

He smiles at him, Clay snuffs out his cigarette and starts walking towards his car. 

George follows behind him, getting in the passenger seat. 

He starts the car and loud music starts playing, George doesn’t know the song but Clay does. 

This is going to be a long ride. 

-

The ride is as long as George expected, full of uncomfortable small talk and loud music. 

They’re now sitting at Clay’s kitchen table, George drinking water while Clay has a diet soda. 

“So wh-” 

George’s phone starts ringing, a loud tune that Clay doesn’t recognize. 

“One second, that’s my father.”

Clay wants to make fun of his speech but he’s already answering the phone. 

“Hel-” He’s cut off by his fathers angry yelling. 

“George Ezra Davidson!” George flinches at the loud noise. 

Clay is a bit taken aback by how angry the pastor sounds. 

“I look away for one second and you’re gone! I expect to see my son when i’m done with my sermon but instead I’m met with empty pews!”

“I’m sor-” His voice is soft and frail. 

“Sorry, doesn't cut it anymore!” He seems to get louder.

George doesn’t respond. 

“I want you home immediately.” 

He puts down his phone, his father had hung up. 

Both boys are silent, George takes his cup and puts it in his sink silently. 

He grabs his phone off of the table and starts walking out of Clay’s house. 

“George,” 

George flinches, even though his voice is quiet. 

“Do you want a ride home?” His voice is soothing and still. 

“Please,” George’s voice breaks, making him sound two seconds away from crying. 

The drive this time is a lot quicker, no music, no awkward talking, no talking at all actually. 

Clay drops George off at his house, watching only long enough to see him walk to the stairs of his front door. 

He looks down and sighs, George’s old silver phone still sitting on the seat. 

“Shit,” He mumbles to himself. 

He reverses his car, picking up the phone. 

He parks once more and gets out of the car, he walks in long strides to the front door. 

He goes to knock on the hard mahogany but is interrupted by a long wail, his hand freezes. 

A thud is heard from behind the door, loud even though it’s muffled by the thick walls. 

Clay turns around and walks back to his car, forgetting about giving George his phone. 

What the fuck? Is the only thing that is going on his head. 

The thought repeats itself as he digests what he just heard. 

What the fuck indeed.

-

Clay returns the next day after school to give George his phone. 

He knocks on the dark mahogany, not getting interrupted this time. 

The door creaks open a bit, a bright blue eye looking at him. The door opens all the way, revealing the muddy brown counterpart.

“Hey,” Clay starts, digging in his pocket to find the small phone. 

“Hello,” George is wearing a dark blue turtleneck sweater. 

“That’s a nice sweater.” 

George looks down, “Thank you.” 

They stare at each other in silence. 

“Oh!” Clay suddenly remembers. “Your phone!” 

He hands over the small silver phone. 

“Thank you.” George takes the phone gratefully. 

“I didn’t see you at school today.”

“Astute observation.” George deadpans. 

“Why?”

“Wasn’t feeling well.” He says it as if it was rehearsed. 

“You miss a lot of school George.”

“I don’t feel well often.” 

Clay narrows his eyes. 

“Alright then,” He’s still suspicious “I expect to see you tonight.”

“I’ll be there,” George continues more than necessary “I’m a man of worship and it is Monday.”

“Yep,” Clay nods slowly.

“See you then.”

“See you then.” Clay repeats.

George closes the door lightly, leaving Clay with his thoughts. 

Clay walks back to his car, slower than he came. 

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what happened last night. He knew after about two minutes of actually thinking. 

It wasn’t uncommon in families like his for father’s to hit their sons, but when did the line cross discipline into abuse? 

He sighs as he gets into his car. 

The most he could do is keep trying to check in with George and make sure he could get his schoolwork so he could graduate and get out of the hellhole of a house he lived in.

It was safe to say that Clay didn’t even really dislike George. It was more of a misunderstanding, he didn’t know George enough to make an assumption about his character. Even with the little bit of information he gained on him he easily went from the bottom to the top of the ‘must protect’ list that was bookmarked in Clay’s mind.


End file.
